renate.nu

Ok, ok, technically it’s Sunday, but the way I see it the day doesn’t change before I’ve been asleep. That’s just how it works in my world.

This song. It’s one of my all-time favourite songs. I was introduced to it through the movie Almost Famous, which I found randomly on the students’ download server – this was back in the days before piracy was a big problem that everyone cared about. The movie it self is good, but the one part of it that I remember the best is this song, and the people in the movie singing it on the bus. It became a staple of all our parties (because I told everyone to watch the movie, and because my friends are awesome they immediately locked on to that same part as the best part of the movie). I’m pretty sure it was the second year of my life as a student, and I still lived at the dorms, so it must have been the early summer of 2002.

Good times.

I recently heard a remix of this song on the radio, and it pissed me off. If you’ve agreed to this, Elton John, I AM SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU. Bad Elton! BAD ELTON! I shake my fist at you.

I could make a rather boring post about how my exam went well, but no! FLASHBACK FRIDAY FTW!

This song holds a very specific memory for me, and the jury is still out on wether or not it’s a good one.

It’s 1998. Christmas is approaching, and it’s the annual Christmas dance for all the high schoolers (as well as everyone else, really, but mostly high schoolers go to those things). I’m there. It’s the first time I go to any sort of dance. I’m madly in love with a boy in my class. He probably only hardly knows my name. Anyway. Going to this dance, I harbour no hope that anyone will ask me to dance, because I’m a dork and I have lots of zits and I have no fashion sense. So what do I do? I go up to this guy and ask him to dance with me. And the song that starts playing? Yep: LeAnn Rimes – How do I live.

Ok, so the dancing itself, that’s a good memory, no doubt about it. My first ever slow dance, that’s one for the diary, right? The manner how that dance came to happen though – not so good a memory. Honestly, sometimes I don’t know what gets into me. Seriously, I still blush when I think about it – I almost didn’t want to tell anyone about it, but now that I sort of have (haven’t published yet, obviously) it feels ok. Liberating.

And you know why I’m ok with telling people about this happening of my sad teenage years? Because I’m married now. Yeah. No matter how much of a loser I was back then, I’m married now, which makes me NOT A LOSER. In love, that is. I might still be a loser in other aspects of life.

(And my fashion sense still sucks.)